Quizzed
by Jet Wolf
Summary: There may be levels of seriousness due to magazine quizzes, but this surely isn't it.


**Notes:** Welcome to a much-overdue series of updates. This was written on my Tumblr for Promptvember 2014 (which was unfortunately life-intruded and so currently uncompleted.)

This prompt was: _Mako, Ami, a mirror, and teenage insecurities. Do with that what you will_. And will I did.

 _(2 November 2014)_

* * *

 **Quizzed**

Mako's heart pounded in her ears. Her breathing was hard, but measured. She reached the fifth story landing and rounded the turn to the next flight of stairs without pause. It wasn't exactly a short distance from her apartment to Ami's, but Mako hadn't even considered not running it. Waiting for the bus would take too long, and she couldn't afford those extra minutes. Not with the image of Ami's message still glowing before her eyes. Not with all the things she was imagining in its wake.

"I need your help."

It was probably nothing. Mako had told herself that a hundred times now. She made it a hundred and one, just to be on the safe side. Ami had used her cell phone and not her communicator, Mako argued to the jury in her head, so it couldn't be that serious.

 _Ah, BUT!_ her mental prosecutor argued. _She didn't reply when you texted her back, did she?_

Mako took the next flight of stairs even faster and cursed her mental prosecutor.

It had been variations on this all the way here. Ami was, by nature, an overly considerate texter. Responses would always come within minutes, and she'd never left any text unreplied. Minako had tried to force Ami into being the one to end a conversation once. After fifteen minutes of smiley faces bouncing back and forth, Minako gave up.

Ami had out-Minako'd Minako through the power of being Ami.

Dire Text + No Reply = Mako Running Across Town And Ten Flights Of Stairs Without Stopping. Mako wasn't good at math, but she knew basic arithmetic when she saw it.

Finally reaching Ami's floor, Mako fished a small ring of keys out of her pocket. Normally she'd knock first, but her imagination was winning the battle (what if she was too sad to get to the door, what if she was hurt, _what if she strapped to a bomb any sudden movements would kill her instantly is that a chance you are willing to take?!_ ) and there wasn't time for that. She found the correct key instantly (blue, with a lighter blue flower) and seconds later stood, huge and panting and wide-eyed, in the center of Ami's living room.

The first thing Mako noticed was that, quite against all expectations, Ami was not strapped to a bomb with three seconds to spare.

Mako glared inwardly at her mental prosecutor.

The second thing Mako noticed was that Ami wasn't in fact there at all. A frown creasing her forehead (and careful not to touch anything in case of the many perilous traps she was absolutely not under any circumstances now envisioning had cornered Ami), Mako picked her way through the apartment until she arrived at a particular door.

Steeling herself, Mako pushed this door open. "Ami?"

Since getting that message, Mako had prepared herself for a great many things. Somehow none of those things were Ami, slumped at her desk, staring into a mirror and fighting back tears.

Any thoughts of traps and explosives disappeared. Instantly, Mako was at Ami's side and gathering her into a tight embrace.

"Sorry," Ami sniffed from somewhere within her Mako Hug. "I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want to—"

Mako shook her head, feeling on the verge of crying herself. "Shh. Doesn't matter. That was just my exercise for the day. Now what's wrong?"

There was no response at first, so Mako just hugged Ami harder and tried to piece together what had happened on her own. Everything looked perfectly normal, except for that mirror. It was on a small stand, like the kind you saw on make-up counters in the stores, and had been propped up on one of the usual piles of books Ami kept around her at all times. Mako was about to give up looking when she noticed something else.

A magazine.

Ami did often enjoy magazines, so at first Mako hadn't given it much thought. It was only when she saw the article headline that she looked closer.

"Ten Surefire Short Hair Fashion Tips!" the article boldly proclaimed to reveal. And on the facing page, one of those quizzes that appeared so often in teen magazines.

And a piece of paper nearby showing what looked suspiciously like quiz answers.

"It was the magazine," Ami confessed as she finally pulled free of the hug, though she kept Mako's arm around her shoulders. She sounded embarrassed, so Mako squeezed encouragingly. "Rei-chan told me it had something she thought I should see. This was the page that was marked."

"And they were bad fashion tips?" asked Mako with a lopsided grin.

Ami managed a tiny smile (Mako felt like she'd conquered the world) but shook her head. "I don't know, I didn't read them. I-I'm sure that was what she wanted me to see, but ..."

Ami looked at the magazine like she was afraid it would bite her, so Mako leaned forward to get a better look. " _Are your friends really your friends? Take our quiz to find out!_ "

And on the piece of paper, a score that left no ambiguity.

"Oh, Ami ..."

Her laugh was sad and humourless. "I know! I know, it's foolish. Its twenty questions in a magazine. There's nothing sound in its research or results. I know that." Ami turned her watery eyes to Mako, really looking at her for the first time. "I know that, but what if Rei-chan was trying to tell me something?"

Mako was so overcome with affection for her friend – her silly brilliant friend who could never shut off her giant brain, not even for her own good – that she scooped Ami up in her second hug of the day. Ami's little noise of surprise only made her more adorable, and Mako wiggled Ami back and forth like she could squeeze yet more love into her hug if she tried hard enough.

"Ami, it's REI. Rei's not going to send you secret messages hidden in magazine quizzes. What does Rei do when she wants to tell someone she doesn't like them?"

Ami leaned back, having finally extracted herself from Mako. She thought back to all the time she'd known Rei. Rei marching up to Ami and dragging her to tea. Rei glaring at someone and yelling at them even after they'd crossed the street to get away. Rei being Rei, even when she was trying very hard to not be quite so Rei. Really, there was only ever one answer.

"She tells them."

"She fucking tells them!" Mako agreed. "Rei loves you. I love you. WE ALL love you. What the hell does this test know?"

A smile, a genuine one, crept across Ami's face. "Presumably ten surefire short hair fashion tips?"

Mako scoffed at that. "I'm not sure I'd trust anything this crap has to say now, but yeah, maybe. Want to try?"

Ami nodded and Mako grabbed the magazine, folding it in half so the offending page was out of sight. She adjusted the mirror, shot Ami a wink in it, and began to read over her shoulder.


End file.
